My rapt attention has been turned from the bay to a beauty that is much younger, yet still ancient. She could be carved from the same jade as Diao Chan or Sun Shang. Her hair is perfect in the comb and then dress now enhances what she already abundantly has. I smile at her remark and lean down to kiss her on the cheek.

She ambushes me. I am not sure exactly how it happens but somehow she turns her face and snakes her hand behind my head so I cannot draw back in surprise. We share a much different kiss then I had intended, my lips meet hers and she is soft. I try to pull back but feel her hand. She is vulnerable, this child, but so am I. I kiss her anew with feeling, slipping my hand around to the small of her back and pulling her to me. Thoughts rush in my head. I should not be doing this. I can't not do it. She is more yielding, yet aggressive than I imagined she could be. Her lips part slightly and brush mine and I return. Her taste is heaven. The noise of the city recedes as we embrace and for many long moments we stand locked with each other. Eventually I feel wetness sliding down her cheeks and pull back questioningly. She is crying.

"What is wrong, Ling?" I ask a bit yet not fully confused.

Dabbing her cheek with a kerchief she looks at and with no logic whatsoever replies, "Damn you, now I have to fix my make-up."

Bemused I watch her retreat to her boudoir and wait the few minutes it takes. She comes out just as stunning as before and lets me give her one short kiss again just to make sure the peace is kept. Taking her arm we walk outside to my car and drive toward the museum. Her hand is on mine and we drive in silence, perhaps fearful that to speak might break the magic.

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a smile like the sin of angels